Page 180 of Babies for the Big Shot

“Fuck,” she breathes, her hips moving with a desperate need, grinding against my touch.

“Patience,” I murmur, my voice a low growl. “You’ve got to wait for it.” I slide a finger down, dipping into her, feeling the slickness of her arousal, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “So ready for me.”

She moans, her body writhing beneath my touch, but I pull away just as she’s about to grind against me, leaving her panting and desperate. I want her to beg, to need me.

“Nick,” she gasps, frustration and need making her voice break. “Please.”

I look at her, my heart racing as I drink her in, her lips swollen, her chest heaving, her whole body begging me to take her.

I could do it now. Take her fast, hard, but that’s not what I want. I want to break her down, make her ache for me, for more.

With a growl, I slide my hands to her wrists, pinning them above her head again, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingertips.

I lean down, kissing her deeply this time, my tongue exploring her mouth. When I pull back, I’m met with the glint of defiance in her eyes.

She wants me to push, to make her lose control, to make her beg for it.

“You’re mine tonight,” I say firmly, the words slipping from my lips in a command, and her eyes flicker, dark with excitement. “And every night now.”

With no warning, I slide my hand lower, my fingers brushing against the edge of her lace panties. I let her feel the pressure of my hand, but I don’t give her what she wants, not yet.

“Please,” she whispers again, the desperation in her voice making me harder than I thought possible.

“I know you want it,” I murmur, my fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of her panties, dipping lower. “But you’re going to have to wait for me to give it to you.”

I slide down her body slowly, my mouth trailing kisses over her skin, kissing the sensitive spots behind her knees, her thighs, teasing her, pushing her to the edge.

Her body shivers under my touch, every inch of her alive, reacting to me.

And when I finally slide my mouth over her, when I taste her, deep, slow, unrelenting, I don’t let up. I take everything she gives, pulling her apart with each flick of my tongue, each pressure of my mouth.

I feel her body tense, the way she pushes against me, trying to force me to go faster, but I don’t. I make her wait, make her beg again, because I need her to know who’s in control.

“Sara,” I whisper against her skin, my voice dark and thick with desire. “I’m going to make you beg for everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your name.”

And when she does, when she finally breaks beneath me, her body shuddering, her back arching off the bed, her hands gripping the sheets because they’re the only thing keeping her grounded, I know I’ve won.

I lean over her, my body pressing down against hers, feeling her heart race beneath my chest, and I whisper into her ear, “Now we can really get started.”

Without warning, I flip her over, pressing her into the sheets as I lift her hips into position, exactly how I want her.

Her breath hitches, and I pause for just a second to take in the view, flushed cheeks, tousled hair, the curve of her back arched just for me.

The sight alone nearly undoes me.

My hands grip her thighs, her skin hot and silken beneath my palms. She shifts beneath me, the anticipation written in every line of her body, and when I thrust into her, deep and hard, a raw, broken gasp tears from her throat.

That sound. That desperate, breathless sound. I’ve been dreaming of it.

She clenches around me, trembling under the force of every stroke, and I swear I lose myself in the feel of her, the heat, the tight, perfect fit of her. My grip tightens as I drive into her again, harder this time, dragging another moan from her lips.

“Fuck, Nick… yes!” she cries, her voice ragged and wild, and it shatters something in me.

All the control I’d been clinging to slips through my fingers. I grab a fistful of her hair, tugging gently but firmly, forcing her head back so I can lean in, teeth grazing the curve of her shoulder.

The way she arches into it, the way she gives herself over to me, spurs me on.

The rhythm turns punishing, my hips slamming into hers, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Her moans come faster, louder, as pleasure mixes with the sharp sting of each movement.